Crescent Inquisition

by Fuad Baloch

  “I did,” replied the other inquisitor.

  The room had suddenly gone too cold. Kunita chewed her lower lip. Palvar stood his ground, smiling faintly at the inquisitor, seemingly unperturbed that he’d issued a veiled challenge. “I’d be honored if you lend me an ear. After all, the prince is most keen for us to try alternative approaches.”

  “Speak,” barked Inquisitor Casan. “And be quick about it.”

  Palvar rubbed his hands, suddenly looking unsure. “We could discuss this in private if you prefer.”

  “Here,” said Inquisitor Fan. “Now!”

  Palvar interlaced his hands, his thumbs tapping against each other furiously. He was thinking, Kunita realized, having finally understood that for the moment he had the ear of the prince and the second son of the grand vizier. What he said here could have wide repercussions, both for him and Nikhtun’s standing in the court.

  The sound of heavy boots slapping the marbled floor behind her made Kunita turn around. Two city guards, their foreheads moist under the torchlight, approached Captain Tamat and whispered in his ear. She couldn't hear them, but it didn't require a lot of imagination, judging by how the captain’s face paled, that the news they bore was grim.

  Captain Tamat clapped his hands. The guards scattered, each heading for a separate group of viziers watching them in hushed silence.

  “Blood and onions,” muttered Palvar. Despite herself, Kunita smiled. It was quite charming to see one not lose themselves no matter the circumstances.

  “What’s the matter, Captain?” asked Prince Hatan. Lud Ghiani stepped up to him, his robes trailing behind him.

  “Sahibs,” said the captain, dipping his head. “I apologize for I bear terrible news.”

  “Out with it,” said Inquisitor Fan.

  “A body has been found in the Inqilaban square, dumped over a haystack.”

  “Who?” the prince asked.

  “Tasneem Jostan,” he replied.

  “The sultan’s second cousin,” said Lud Ghiani, his eyes widening.

  The captain nodded solemnly. “The city guard is investigating the area for clues. We will find witnesses and question them until we’ve located the trail of these monsters.”

  “You’ll find nothing,” said Palvar, the brusqueness startling Kunita. “Someone who targets the sultan himself is no amateur at this.”

  Captain Tamat’s face hardened, but no one disputed Palvar. How could they? Even now, Kunita found it impossible to believe that members of the sultan’s own family had been captured so brazenly.

  The captain’s jaw moved silently. Gasps went up around the hall as the soldiers relayed the news. Kunita exhaled. No doubt the same was happening throughout Algaria this very instant. Before long, the entire city would know. Whoever had captured the Istani family members meant business and was most willing to carry out their threats until their impossible ransom was paid.

  She took a step forward, and whispered in his ear, “Palvar, you’ve got leverage now. Use it wisely.”

  Palvar’s large eyes focused on hers. Then, he nodded.

  “Girl!” snapped Inquisitor Khatani, bursting the bubble of silence that had fallen on them, her finger pointed at her. “Just what in the seven worlds are you doing here?”

  “I am hired by Nikhtun’s courtier, sahiba,” Kunita replied, forcing to keep her voice steady. She reached into her bosom, withdrawing the dagger she always kept there. “For when things go wrong.”

  “She definitely knows how to disarm rowdy men,” said Palvar smoothly.

  Keen not to let the moment slip, Kunita cleared her throat. “Jinab Prince Hatan, sahibs and sahibas, I implore you to listen to Courtier Palvar Turka’s suggestion. At a time like this, as the prince suggested, we must try unorthodox approaches against this unusual enemy of ours.”

  “A fair point,” said Prince Hatan. “Isn’t it so, Lud?” The grand vizier’s son offered a terse nod. Captain Tamat’s face remained emotionless, but Kunita could almost feel the hatred bubbling away from the distance.

  “Speak, Courtier Palvar Turka,” said Inquisitor Fan.

  Palvar cleared his throat. “To kill poison, as the say in Nikhtun, one needs more poison.” He stopped as if waiting for a reaction but none came. He nodded. “As you all know very well, I’m not a man who likes mincing useless words. Therefore, permit me to come straight to the point.” He raised a hand. “Now, when you hear what I’ve to suggest, I caution you to think it through first, give it the consideration it’s due, for I assure you I’ve given it much thought. A great deal of it, truth be told, Rabb as my witness.”

  Kunita cringed. Rotting salmon, get on with it! she wanted to scream.

  “Cut the chaff,” said Inquisitor Fan. “What do you want?”

  “Roshan,” Palvar said, his eyes turning towards Inquisitor Casan.

  “My magus?” Inquisitor Casan said, his forehead creasing as Palvar continued to smile.

  “Hear me out, sahibs,” said Palvar. He drew in an annoyingly long breath, then nodded to himself as if putting his thoughts in order. “Instead of denying the ransom, how about we pay it?” He held up a hand as Inquisitor Fan opened his mouth. “Let’s pretend it, anyway. Let’s have a raven fly, and have a magus, say your Roshan, wander off without an inquisitor in sight. That’s what they want, right? Free the magi? Well, let them think that, and when—”

  “I can’t have a magus just wander out by himself,” wailed Inquisitor Casan. “Do you have any idea of the chaos it would cause?”

  “I never suggested letting him loose in the main bazaars,” said Palvar. “Let’s do that somewhere a bit more appropriate. Like the sewers.”

  “What are you trying…” Inquisitor Fan started, then trailed away.

  “That’s the silliest thing I’ve heard all day,” declared Captain Tamat. “My prince, Sahib Lud Ghiani, honorable inquisitors, our representative from Nikhtun doesn’t understand how our investigations work. We must not make matters worse by letting amateurs disrupt our delicate work.”

  “I find myself agreeing with the captain,” declared Lud Ghiani, his narrow fingers steepled.

  “We’ll have to ensure no one knows about it, though,” continued Palvar, his eyes focused on the prince. “Or we’ll lose the advantage of surprise.”

  Inquisitor Casan scoffed. “What a pile of loose sand!” He gestured at Inquisitor Fan, who seemed lost in thought. Inquisitor Khatani bent her head and began whispering in Inquisitor Fan’s ear. Lud Ghiani did the same with the prince, Captain Tamat watching them all stone-faced. Kunita felt her stomach lurch. This wasn’t a life she was used to, one with twists and turns and stakes as high as these. Her personal mission seemed practically puny in comparison.

  “I leave the decision to you, Inquisitor Fan,” said the prince after Lud Ghiani had stepped back.

  Inquisitor Fan nodded, his shoulders sagging. He turned towards Inquisitor Casan, and when he spoke, his voice was low, the words deliberate. “Speak to Roshan. Make sure he knows you won’t be too far off.”

  Inquisitor Casan blinked as Palvar grinned. “As you say.”

  “We’ll bait the bastards,” Palvar declared. “Definitely no hard-ons this time around.”

  “What?” Kunita asked as the others looked up at him sharply.

  Palvar offered a bow, then motioning her to follow him, slipped away. Kunita scampered to keep up with him.

  “Where are you going now?” she asked.

  “How good are you with ravens?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Salv stopped.

  “The shadows like to move. Stopping is not in their nature,” Ignar breathed in his ear, his breath reeking as if coming from a rotten corpse.

  “I don’t understand it,” Salv said, his eyes focused on the lone figure shambling north. A nondescript man Salv wouldn't normally have looked up at twice had it not been for the black turban he wore.

  The black turban of a magus.

  Ignar clicked his tongue, gave his shoulde
rs a violent shrug. “No one knows the ways of the world better than the two moons and the masters.”

  Salv ignored him. The sun had barely risen over the distant city walls, the golden light growing stronger with each passing moment. Despite this part of the city leading into the sewers having long been abandoned, it was possible that the morning might draw in a few locals. If they did, the sight of a magus by himself would draw attention quicker than vultures spying an unmoving body in the middle of a desert. Couple that with the testimony of those who would’ve seen the raven set loose from the Grand Husalmin Temple and the entire city would be in an uproar.

  Salv wrung his hands, the muscles in his neck twitching. “They actually released a magus.”

  “They did!” replied Ignar.

  “Why?”

  Ignar broke into his babbling gibberish, words that meant nothing to Salv. It was no human language, Salv knew that much. Nothing but the feverish product of a deranged mind, one who despite everything seemed to know more about their mission than he let on. Salv looked up. In truth, he hadn’t really believed the realm would ever pay the ransom—he wouldn’t have in their position—but regardless, he had allowed for it and prepared accordingly, ensuring Ignar knew nothing of it. A dog followed blindly. A wise man kept his eyes open.

  Biting the insides of his cheek, Salv made himself follow the lumbering magus, his eyes mesmerized by the black turban. “What if he isn’t even a real magus, just someone told to wear the black?” he muttered.

  “The night knows her denizens well. She claims only those she truly owns.”

  “Right,” said Salv, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He’d been roused an hour ago by Ignar and a dozen of the master’s men he’d worked with before in capturing the Istani men and women. The raven had been spotted, they’d told him, and that meant magi were being released. Salv and Ignar were to follow them, bind them, and await further instruction.

  “Bind magi?” Salv had scoffed then. “Rusted shields, how am I to do that?” The master’s men had no answers for him. Nothing but the assurances from the master that everything would go fine, that there was nothing to worry about, that everything had been planned.

  Everything he saw now screamed at him to worry. The realm had released one magus, not the fourteen they had demanded. Why? Did they want to strike a bargain, give one magus for every prisoner they received in turn?

  Salv didn’t like it much. He was a warrior, an adept war tactician. Back when he had led the night assault against the northern fortress of Khanam and made his name, he’d taken not just the enemy by surprise but all those back in the camp as well who’d doubted his acumen. The fog of war, that gray mist of uncertainty, had dissuaded others where he had instead struck out.

  He had accepted this job, his last job, knowing full well this was the densest fog he was ever setting foot in. He didn't know the identity of the man he worked for, what the end game was, why a magus worked with the master, why members of the Istani family had been captured, or why their ransom had been set to magi instead of gold.

  Salv was a man who liked asking tough questions, and didn’t let much stop him. Yet, that part of him had been lulled into sleep over the past few years, as he’d been assigned desk duty by his overlords. This challenge on the other hand had shaken him out of his physical stupor, even if in the bargain, he’d had to give up intellectual curiosity.

  All that had led him to this moment, though: walking with a crazy man, about to capture a living, breathing magus!

  Ignar skipped over to a wall, let his breeches drop, then cocked his head to the side. “Should I squat or would you mind if I shat standing up?”

  “Rusted shields,” Salv cursed. “Pull them up!” Without waiting, Salv advanced.

  A few hundred yards ahead, the magus came to a stop in front of a rusted walkaway that spiraled into an ancient, crumbling well. The sign next to it announced it as the Jatoon gateway into the city sewers.

  Wind picked up, setting the ends of the magus’s turban fluttering. Salv yanked Ignar by the shoulder and stepped in behind a shattered shopfront. The magus didn't look back, though. Salv’s breath came in gasps—an accompaniment to old age he had not anticipated—and he struggled to maintain it, his eyes focused on the magus.

  One magus instead of the fourteen. A magus who had marched right over to the sewers where the master had commanded them to move the prisoners. A master whose plans Salv didn’t understand. Salv shivered, once more feeling the world hurtling towards an end that chilled him even as he couldn’t see through the maze.

  Clear your thoughts! he told himself firmly. There was fog ahead, true, but that was nothing new for him.

  The magus climbed onto the lip of the well, then after hesitating for half a beat, descended into the sewers.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “There they are, the bastards!” Palvar announced, struggling to keep his voice low. As he watched, the two men who’d been following the magus, lowered themselves into the well.

  Captain Tamat whistled softly, holding up a hand. “Wait a bit!”

  Palvar licked his lips, blood coursing through his veins. “We’ve done it, by Rabb, we have! The plan has worked perfectly.”

  “Stay put.”

  “Why?”

  Captain Tamat looked over his shoulder. “There is a possibility we’ve been followed.”

  Palvar chuckled, rubbing his hands. “So, these two followed the magus, we followed them, and in turn are being followed by someone else?”

  “This is Algaria,” Captain Tamat said evenly. “One can never be too sure.”

  Palvar turned. Just the two of them in this wretched part of the capital city, as far as he could see. Probably the captain was right in being careful, but he hadn't come this far only to lose the trail due to unnecessary caution. “There’s just us!”

  “Wait here, I’ll alert the city guard. Rabb only knows what we’re going to encounter in there without preparation.”

  Palvar’s eyes bulged. “Captain, you have no idea how much effort it required to have the inquisitors use Roshan as bait!”

  “Courtier, you have no idea how many promises I’ve had to make to stop you from doing anything stupid.”

  “When have I ever—” Palvar shook his head. “You know we can’t spook the bastards by setting off the hounds. Not yet, anyway. We need to ensure we don’t lose them, and that’s exactly what we’re doing if we keep arguing about the very thing you know we should be doing!”

  Captain Tamat glared at him. Palvar didn't let it rankle him much. He was a courtier in the world’s grandest court, on speaking terms with powerful viziers, inquisitors, and even a couple of magi. Besides, once he’d rescued the captives—for real, this time, Rabb willing—his star would shine the brightest. And he was not going to let Captain Tamat spoil that for him.

  Adrenaline coursing through his body, setting a buzz about him, Palvar advanced towards the well.

  “Stop!” Tamat called out, but Palvar paid him no mind. “The gods feast on you, you stubborn Nikhtuni!”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” muttered Palvar.

  The iron railings running down the dried out well had rusted out a long time ago, the metal coarse under Palvar’s touch as he descended into the well. Behind him, he heard Captain Tamat cursing as he too followed him. Palvar knew that if this mission were to go wrong, the captain would be the first one to feed him to the desert snakes. He wouldn’t be the only one. Nobody had seemed keen on his plan: not the inquisitors, not the prince, not Lud Ghiani, most definitely not the city guard captain. No one but Kunita. Palvar couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the memory of her heart-shaped face turned towards him, her large, dark eyes unblinking as she talked. She’d not been happy when he’d announced his intention to tail the magus himself. In the end, though, common sense had prevailed, even if he had to promise to return to her straight away. Too bad he couldn’t keep the captain away, though. The inquisitors had insisted for his presence an
d the prince had agreed.

  His lips pursed, Palvar looked around the dry well. The air reeked of refuse, the acrid smell of urine dueling with the nauseating stench of excrement. Was it even human shit? Clamping his nose shut with one hand, Palvar entered the tunnel to his left.

  “Oh, Rabb!” cursed Captain Tamat behind him as he stepped on something soft that squelched underneath him. Palvar continued on. The tunnel he was in looked recent, probably dug once the well had dried out. The brickwork wouldn't make any mason proud, but it did the job well enough, leading him on a downward slope, the stink growing with each step.

  Palvar turned left, then right, following the tunnel snaking ever downwards. Captain Tamat kept a pace behind, his breath the only sound Palvar could hear except for a faint drip further ahead.

  “We’re losing light!” said Captain Tamat once they’d walked in fifty or so yards.

  Palvar looked around, surprised to note that the light had indeed dimmed considerably since they’d entered. “No torches! We must not alert anyone to our presence.”

  “Wasn’t suggesting that!”

  A clicking noise came from beyond the curving wall. “Shush!” Palvar squinted, leaning forward, straining to hear it again. Nothing but the faint drip, drip of water. “Hmm, I must be imagining sounds,” he muttered. Then, taking charge, he motioned the captain to follow him, dropping to a crouch.

  The tunnel continued to narrow as they ventured deeper, the walls pressing in oppressively, the drip of water getting louder, Palvar’s heart ringing out like a bell. Finally, he stuttered to a stop, squinting, but no longer able to distinguish his own shadow from the others.

  “Have we lost them?” Palvar whispered, turning his head to the captain.

  “Hold on.” Groaning, Captain Tamat struck two stones, the resulting sparks lighting the torch he now held out in front. Their shadows burst into life, acquiring sharp edges. Palvar gritted his teeth, but there was no denying the fact that without the golden light falling on the moist walls, they were as good as lost.